


I Gotta Bring You To My Hell

by yearofmeteors



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bloodplay, F/M, Frottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:04:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yearofmeteors/pseuds/yearofmeteors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liz had been dreaming lately. Dreams of broken skin, blood soaked hands, a voice that made a man do what he was told.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Gotta Bring You To My Hell

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this very very early in the series and it's been sitting on my hard drive ever since, so take the canon and characterization with a grain of salt.
> 
> Title from Meg Myers' Desire.

_She had a knife in her hand, she brought it to the man’s neck. He swallowed causing the knife to cut into his skin._

Liz locked herself in the bathroom breathing hard. She hadn’t had a dream like that in years. She realized she had missed them, despite herself. She put the lid down on the toilet and sat down. She spread her legs, and brought herself off as quickly as possible, the dream still flashing behind her eyelids.

_Her nails dug into his arms, as the man brought her off with his fingers. He hissed as she pushed hard enough into his flesh to draw blood._

The dreams wouldn’t go away. She suspected why, but didn’t care to think too hard on the subject. It brought up things she didn’t want to deal with, and she already had enough to deal with.

But as time passed, they got worse (or better?), and were starting to interfere with . . . everything. She was going to have deal with it sometime soon.

_She shoved the pen into his neck, blood slowly leaking down his neck, staining his shirt collar._

It wasn’t about watching Tom getting tortured. That enough was true after the third dream, much to her relief. She had never been into _that_ much blood, _that_ much pain. The picture became startlingly clear after the fifth. After that, the arousal didn’t stay in dreamland. She was always wet by the end of the day. It thrilled her, to be honest. She felt shame color the feeling when she thought too hard about, but she had dealt with that long ago, and quickly pushed it away.

_Red spoke to her from somewhere behind her left shoulder, as she fucked herself on her fingers. He wondered at her obsession with drawing blood, describing it in detail._

Maybe if Tom wasn’t in the picture, it would be easier. But the more she doubted him, questioned their life together, she realized that it might actually be easier _this_ way.

...............................................................................................................................................................................................................

“Just tell me one thing…” She eyed the fresh blood running down the side of his face, trying to keep her hands from fidgeting too much.

He smirked, a hand finding its way to her waist. She frowned, eyes narrowing, her hands curling into fists, her nails biting into her palms.

“You do exactly as I say. I don’t expect you to in any other situation, even though I’d like you to. In this instance however, there are no exceptions.”

“Of course, Lizzie.” She saw a small, almost too quick to miss, break in his usual smug delivery of the line. A hitch in his breath.

She grinned, a thrill going through her.  There wasn’t surveillance here, they were on a mission with too much time on their hands. They were being tracked remotely but that meant nothing. She lent in, brushing her fingers through the blood at his temple, shivering.

“I wondered when you’d give in.” He stood perfectly still, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Hmmm, I wondered when you’d say something inappropriate in front of everyone, trying to egg me on.”

“I still might, Lizzie.”

She dug her fingernails into the cut.

“Or not.” He hissed through a smile.

She hummed, running her fingers down his face, blood streaking across his skin. He grabbed her wrist gently, guiding her fingers to his mouth. She gasped, nodding, pushing her fingers against his lips. This was better than any dream. He took her fingers into his mouth, licking his blood off her fingertips, sucking them clean.

She laughed, feeling elated. Her unoccupied hand gripped his shoulder tightly, she knew it had to hurt. She leaned down and kissed the scar where she had stabbed him. She lightly grazed her teeth against it. Red bit down slightly on her fingers in response. Liz gasped against his neck, pushing her fingers deeper into his mouth. Red moaned, helping the action along, fucking his mouth on her fingers.

Liz moaned as Red pushed his thigh between her legs. She twisted her hand in his shirtsleeve, panting against his neck. She started to rub herself off on his thigh in time to the movement of his mouth over her fingers. She couldn’t stop the noises coming from her mouth. Her focus narrowed down to sensation, as she drove higher and higher.

Red bit down on her fingers hard as she pushed herself tight to his thigh, biting into the skin above the puncture wound as she came.

She rested her head against his shoulder, unwilling to move quite yet, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He still sucked on her fingers lightly, and she could feel he was hard, but she couldn’t have cared less. Red settled his hands on her waist as she pulled her fingers from his mouth.

“I think you’ve come to the right decision.” Red chuckled. “You can hardly call it adultery when you don’t even know if you’re married to the real man.”

 “I thought you’d like it. It seems to benefit you at least.” Liz wiped her hand on his vest ignoring the huff from Red.

“But I don’t think you’ll be getting me off anytime soon.” His lips quirked.

“That’s true.” She looked at him sharply. “I don’t think you mind.” It wasn’t a question.

He just laughed.


End file.
